but now that you're gone
by xIrelandx
Summary: Not all adventures end with, 'And they lived happily ever after.' Nor, as in this case, do they all begin that way. Professor Layton fusion with Silent Hill. Major Character Death, spoilers through Unwound Future. Layton/Luke Clive/Flora Vincent/Heather. Rated for violence and thematic elements, but nothing too explicit.


Of course it's occurred to Layton that this is a bad idea. It never would have occurred to him that it was a _good_ idea, but it was the only one left. An absolute last resort. And Layton still didn't want to take it. The risks were far too high.

What he really wanted to do was give up for now, surrender, retreat, and regroup to decide on a next move. Paul was working on a machine right now, coordinating with Clive back at the prison, and all Layton and Luke had to do was keep Descole distracted long enough that he didn't do anything untoward to Flora. All they had to do was keep Flora safe, because things were replaceable but people weren't.

And that is the exact reason Layton didn't like Luke's idea. He didn't think Descole would kill Flora, who had already experienced enough traumatic events to know how to get through until Layton and Luke could come to help her out. They weren't completely cut off from contact – she had managed to rewire the systems and send out the occasional message. It didn't make the Professor feel any better, but she assured him she would be able to hold out until they arrived with reinforcements. She would be okay if they didn't act now.

But Luke was _adamant_. That wilful stubbornness was something Clark had grown out of, Luke had acquired and had held onto. The Professor appreciated Luke's passion and empathy and drive to do the right thing, but it was reckless. It was unsafe, and it was unstoppable.

'I don't care if you're going to help me,' Luke snapped, managing to mix exasperation with anger. 'I'm going,' he'd said, and ran off.

'Wait, Luke – stop! No!' Layton was by no means out of shape. Being a teacher might not have been the most physically taxing job in the world, but archaeology required a bit of hands-on capability and their adventures often required running, climbing – that sort of thing. But Luke was still small for his age, still full of energy, still healing quickly, and despite his preference for puzzles and academic pursuits, far more athletic than Hershel had ever been at his age.

Luke managed to run up one of the legs of the machine, and held fast to the arm that was currently swooping down to knock Layton from his path. Layton dodged the attack and rolled away, trying to forget about Luke and remember the ill-advised plan as best he could.

It wasn't easy. Working on the puzzles that locked the power mechanisms of Descole's machine might have been moderate instead insanely difficult if it weren't for the Professor's constant worry about Luke, about Flora, wondering when Paul would get there, thinking about the puzzle itself and trying to avoid Descole's attacks. _At least if he's concentrating on attacking me_, he thought, _he's too busy to think about Luke or Flora_.

He managed to dodge a nasty blow from one of the mechanical arms by ducking under the machine, but tripped on one of the bolts lying around and the momentum sent him spiralling, landing him winded and on his back. He managed to peek up through the glass belly – easy to shatter, so Descole could make a timely escape as always – and saw Luke trip down onto it. His face was bright pink from exertion, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. Layton felt an unsteady breath catch in his throat, and he tried to let it go, remember to breathe. Luke caught his eye and waved at him unconvincingly. Flora ran up behind Luke, grabbed his hand, and forced them onward in their journey.

_Thank God_, Layton thought. He heaved a sigh in relief.

'What are you doing on the ground, Layton?' he turned his head to see Paul jumping out of the car, and extend a hand under the machine. 'Get up, come on now. Have you heard from Flora?'

Layton shook his head. 'I did see her, though –' he coughed, and Don Paolo slammed his back hard. He felt like a brick was stuck in his throat. 'Sh-she and Luke were running around in there, I think they're trying to find an exit.'

Paul's eyes widened. 'You let Luke go in there?'

'I think le –' he coughed again, rubbing his forehead to alleviate the spark in front of his eyes, the pain behind his eyebrows. 'I think "let" is a bit too strong a term.'

Don Paolo swore. 'Stupid kid,' he said. 'Does he ever listen?'

Layton would have been angry at Paul's words if it weren't for the fact that he knew Paul a bit better now, knew that he was just worried. And really, if it weren't so true. When this whole ordeal was over, Luke was going to get a very stern talking to.

Paul dragged the Professor over to his machine, quickly explaining the mechanics and what had to be done now before dashing off himself to an identical motorcar, nodding at Layton to signal that they should start.

Layton was uneasy about the process, but couldn't keep his mind on it. As fun as these adventures could be sometimes, he hated this part – the final battle, Luke always called them in his letters back home. He always sent a heavily edited version to his parents, and a truthful (well, truthful in a child's eyes – Luke could be quite dramatic sometimes) letter to Arianna for her to share with the rest of the kids of Misthallery. These final battles always held some mark of danger, whether it be crumbling towers or giant mechas intent on destroying everything in the area.

It was over quickly, far more so than Layton would have ever expected. He felt his heart race as he and Don Paolo pulled the final strings, and the machine crumbled. He held his breath until he found Flora struggling away from the rubble, and ran toward her. Her grasp was tight on his back as she hugged him, having trouble catching her breath as her nails dug in and she panicked. Paul stepped up beside Layton, and asked quietly, 'Where's Luke?'

Layton dropped the embrace as Flora looked up and turned quickly. 'He was… he was right behind me-'

The Professor took off running toward the machine, shouting for Luke to answer him. He picked up the rubble gingerly at first, setting it aside and making sure not to crush anything. But the more he picked up, the closer to the machine he got, the more frantic he became, tossing rocks everywhere. He didn't register Flora or Don Paolo starting up the machines to shift the rock, too lost in his own mind to think even about his own scrapes and bruises or the burning sensation of the overheated metal through which he was shifting. This was the closest he had ever felt to crazy.

Something in the pit of his stomach dropped, and he knew it before he saw it. He moved aside one piece, a small, insignificant piece, to reveal one of Luke's small hands. The started to push away the rocks swiftly, willing himself to see something different than what he knew he was going to.

Luke's eyes were open, staring off to the side somewhere, his face slightly stained with blue. 'Luke,' he whispered. He felt for Luke's pulse on the side of his neck, and started performing CPR so he could keep up the illusion that something, anything, could work. He didn't hear Flora's screams, or see Clive join the party just in time to try and calm her down. He didn't even feel Paul pulling him away, or himself fighting back. He didn't feel anything.

Barton and Chelmey had arrived by that time. The former stood off to the side, calling in reinforcements for the capture of Descole when Paul informed him that neither he nor Flora could find a body. The latter kept Layton in place, exerting a force no one knew he had, until Don Paolo came back to take over.

The minutes were agonizingly long and Layton closed his eyes, hoping against time and place and everything else that what he was about to hear was happening to somebody, anybody else. Wishing it had been him instead. Wishing he'd never met Luke in the first place and put his life in danger. Wishing for the second time in his life that somebody would just take out a gun and shoot him when Chelmey put a hand on his shoulder and said, 'I'm sorry, Layton. The child is dead. His neck was snapped.'


End file.
